The Little Lady
by AnonymousDuo
Summary: Set seven-eight years before the first book. Sansa couldn't always have hated Jon, could she? What was it like before she knew what bastard meant? Just something I came up with :S Jon/Sansa brotp :' Rated T because I'm paranoid xD


**Well, this is my first asoiaf fanfiction, but I decided to give it a try. It's a one-shot, because I don't want to start anything ambitious with like four other pending fanfictions :S**

**But R&R? :3**

**Okay so sometimes I really wonder about the relationship between Jon and Sansa, so I set this around the time of Arya's birth, so keep in mind that Jon and Robb are around seven at the time.**

_The Little Lady_

The sound of ringing laughter bounced off the walls as Jon and Robb ran around, occasionally pausing to poke the other with a wooden stick that was a crude imitation of a sword.

"I'm King Robert!" Jon yelled proudly, poking at Robb. "You can be Rhaegar!"

Robb dodged Jon's poke nimbly and stuck his tongue out. "I'm _always _Rhaegar!" He complained.

"I was the Mad King, the last time you were Jaime." Jon pointed out.

Robb dropped his stick and tackled Jon, and the two rolled sprawling across the floor, Jon shoving Robb away.

Sansa hopped down from her perch on the little wall and stuck her chin up. "Father says that _real_ knights fight with _honour_."

Jon and Robb disentangled, grinning at their little sister.

Jon held out his wooden sword. "Why don't you give it a go?"

Sansa shook her head sagely. "Father says that ladies don't fight with swords." She sniffed. "Only knights do."

With a wicked grin, Jon advanced on her, wooden sword in hand. "So what do ladies do when they're attacked?"

Sansa giggled, backing away. "Father says that _real _knights don't attack ladies."

"I'm not a real knight yet." Jon winked, grabbing the four-year old girl to tickle her.

She writhed, giggling uncontrollably. "Stop it! Robb!"

Robb was watching, laughing along with the other two. "Protect yourself, _my lady_." He mocked her.

"I'll tell father!" She threatened, but the threat wasn't serious.

Jon finally stopped tickling her, grinning at her fondly. "_Now_ do you want a sword?"

Sansa stuck up her chin again and shook her head.

Robb tickled her under her chin. "You know what _Father_ tells you about sticking up your chin." He mocked.

Sansa swatted his hand away. "Well, _Mother_ says..." She began.

"Don't start again, Sansa." Robb laughed.

Meanwhile, Theon showed up, clad in his finest armour with a practice sword dangling from his belt. Sansa watched him with shining eyes of admiration.

Robb grinned merrily at the sight of Theon, but Jon could only manage a polite smile. Even at the young age of seven, he could sense Theon's hostility.

"Let's go see Bran." He pulled Sansa by the arm, but Sansa pulled away.

"I want to stay and talk to Theon!" She pleaded. "He's going to be a _real_ knight soon."

Theon smiled at the little girl and knelt to ruffle her hair. Nothing could ever disrupt Theon's smile, it seemed. Sansa had taken to Theon almost immediately- impressed by his sword and his apparent skill with it.

"She'll grow out of it." Robb had assured him, but Jon couldn't help but worry that Sansa might always adore Theon. Already at eleven, Theon was showing signs of arrogance and Jon couldn't help but dislike him.

Theon straightened to talk to Robb, and Robb replied eagerly, with Sansa clinging to the two of them, wide-eyed.

A little peeved, Jon dropped his wooden sword and walked back into the castle to find Bran.

* * *

Bran was atop his little wall, as usual. Like Sansa, Bran had a knack for climbing to the oddest places and often felt more comfortable at a height. However, Sansa did not climb very often, because it was _"unladylike"_.

The one year old tumbled down in his haste to run to Jon and hug him. Jon laughed and was about to say something to Bran, when he heard footsteps and turned. Lady Catelyn stood behind him, looming over him imposingly.

With a curt nod to Jon, she picked Bran up and walked away, as Bran whined for Jon. Jon stared after them with a sinking feeling. Why did the Lady Catelyn hate him? He was not yet old enough to understand what being a bastard meant, so he slumped against the wall in despair.

For the first time, Jon felt as though the walls were cold and foreboding, and they were telling him that he didn't belong. He bit back his tears.

Suddenly there was a squeal and Sansa bounded onto Jon, and he was forced to chuckle.

"Where's Theon?" He teased, as she struggled to climb up the wall.

"He's practising with Ser Rodrik." She said, her little feet dangling above Jon's head. "Father says that someday Theon might be a _Lord_!"

Jon straightened to look Sansa in the eye, smiling. "What else does father say?"

She giggled, and dropped off the wall to hug him. All traces of laughter vanished as she said. "Father says that Theon will leave us someday. Are you leaving too?"

He held Sansa at arm's length. "Who'd protect our little lady if I left?"

Sansa beamed at him and nearly crushed him with the ferocity of her hug. "Maybe I'll let you teach me how to use a sword."

"Wouldn't father say something?" Jon mocked her again.

Her eyes glimmered mischievously. "But _mother _says a lady should protect herself!"

They laughed simultaneously. "Maybe when you're older." He promised.

"When I'm eleven like Theon I'll learn how to use a sword like you!" She boasted proudly.

"Now I know what to get you for your eleventh nameday." Jon winked.

Sansa's grin widened and her giddy laughter echoed.

* * *

Jon woke up with a start, Sansa's laugh still ringing in his ears.

He had to pause for a moment to collect his bearings. He was at the Wall, not at Winterfell. Sansa's eleventh nameday had come and passed over a year ago, and she would not have been like to accept any gift from her _"half-brother"._

He remembered the moment when Sansa had found out what _bastard _meant, but he desperately pushed that memory away. Sansa's laugh was replaced with Arya's, and her crushing hug.

But no matter how hard Arya tried, she could not fill the hole that Sansa had left.

Curling up more comfortably, Jon finally let himself weep over Sansa for the first time in near two years.

* * *

**I wasn't intending for the story to be a flashback, but I guess I felt like I had to tie it up. That was actually pretty depressing to write x.x And in case there wasn't enough implication, Sansa named her direwolf "Lady", because Jon and Robb called her "Little Lady". More happy thoughts to brighten up your day.**

**xD Well, I hoped you liked it, and I'm kind of scared because I'm not sure if it's good! :S So _please_ leave a review? :D**

**Virtual cookie if you do ;)**


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